


Fighting Words

by undertheimperius



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, First Kiss, Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undertheimperius/pseuds/undertheimperius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hunt gone awry, Dean worries that it's now possible to lose a newly-human Castiel to the clutches of the monsters they kill. - - written as a gift</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Words

What was supposed to have been a routine salt-n-burn had ended up being the work of a coven of college-aged wiccans that had thought it would be a good idea to summon up the ghost of the old dead poet that they idolized. As things most often go, the entire scenario had gone pear-shaped mighty fast, resulting in a lot more trouble than they had been prepared for. Luckily, they managed to nip the summoning in the bud before things got out of control and forced the coven to disband, but not before acquiring a lovely set of injuries for themselves.

Dean freaking hated witches.

Both Sam and Dean had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing that couldn’t be remedied with some antiseptic and ice from the motel’s machine. Castiel, however, wasn’t let off quite so easily. Even though he still fought with the same agility and precision as he had before the fall, the newly-made human lacked the strength and speed that had come when he was all juiced up. He’d missed a couple of punches and taken quite a few hits, and, as frustrating as it was to someone who had just days ago been able to wish his clothes clean, wasn’t healing as quickly as he wanted to.

Dean’s jaw was tight as he ushered Cas into the bathroom with the med kit to clean up the few cuts he’d gotten by his face. The former angel perched on the edge of the bath tub and turned his head for easier access. He’d gotten a wound on his brow from which blood had run down his cheek, and Dean, soaking a cotton swab in antiseptic, began to gently wipe it away.

Castiel hissed and recoiled from the cotton swab and batted the hunter’s hand away. “I’m fine,” he growled, unwilling to put up with the sting.

"No, you’re not, Cas," countered Dean. He grabbed his wrist and pinned it by his lap so that he could once again wipe at the wound. As he cleaned up more of the blood, he was glad to see that the cut was mostly superficial; with the force that he’d been thrown, Dean had been sure that Cas would’ve beenbadly hurt and was mollified that he was still in one piece.

Dean’s chest felt uncomfortably tight as he unwrapped a couple of steri-strips and pressed them against the wound. Cas wasn’t an angel anymore; he didn’t just bounce back from being thrown about and a knife to the right place could  _kill_  him. Having to worry about Sammy was enough; he didn’t have to worry about losing his best friend now, too. Taking a clean cloth from the kit, he soaked it in warm water from the motel sink and used it to wipe away blood that had caked on the fallen angel’s skin from other scrapes.

"Dean, stop. It’s okay. I’ll heal, in time." Cas shied away from the hunter’s gentle ministrations and made to stand up, but was stopped by Dean’s hand on his shoulder.

"You’re not going to heal that easily anymore. If you get hurt, then you’ve got to take care of yourself, just like me and Sam."

Castiel’s eyes flashed angrily and he pushed the hunter’s hand away, getting to his feet. “Then let me do it myself.”

Dean’s expression looked wounded, and he dropped the cloth back in the sink. “Cas, I-“

"I’m human, Dean. I’m not a child."

"I never said you were incapable of taking care of yourself. I just wanted to help. You’re new to this, okay? Hell,  _I’m_ new to this. I’m not used to seeing you get thrown around like a friggin’ rag doll by some stupid witches and not pop right back up.”

Castiel looked offended, as if the reminder that he wasn’t as powerful as he once was unearthed a hurt that he’d ineffectually tried to cover up within him.

"What would you have me do, stay home from hunts?" His voice rose in pitch, angry. "Just sit and wait for you and Sam to come back?"

"That’s not what I said," Dean ran his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Then what do you want?"

"Damn it, Cas." Dean shoved the former angel against the bathroom door, pinning him against it with his forearm against his chest. He reached to Cas’s face with a trembling hand, his fingertips lightly running down his cheek and tracing a small cut that blemished his fair skin. Although he wouldn’t admit it, the truth of the matter was that he was  _scared_. He was freakin’ terrified that one day, Cas  _wouldn’t_  be alright, that maybe he’d take a hit that he wouldn’t be able to walk away from. The thought that Cas could actually  _die_  and this time there wouldn’t be a magical resurrection made his stomach churn.

He didn’t know when it happened - had it been in the green room when the angel had helped him find Sammy, or had it been in a grimy alley after escaping from a hilarious encounter in a brothel? - but somewhere along the way, he’d started to care what happened to the man, and that freakin’ scared him shitless. He couldn’t bare to lose him, not after he’d just gotten him back.

Gathering up all of his courage, Dean moved his hands to Cas’s face, cupping his cheeks, and pressed his lips against the former angel’s, closing the distance between them with a soft, chaste kiss. Worry crept through him and a thousand different thoughts raced through his head when Cas stayed still beneath him, completely unresponsive to the kiss.

After a moment, Castiel’s lips moved beneath his, kissing him back with a ferocity that he hadn’t expected and burying his fingers in his hair. He nipped at Dean’s lower lip, then soothed the bite with his tongue, eliciting a tiny whine from the hunter’s throat.

Dean pulled away and rest his forehead against Castiel’s, his breath ghosting across his lips. “I can’t lose you, Cas.” He surprised himself with how broken his voice sounded. “I  _need_  you.”

Castiel ran a comforting hand down the hunter’s back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades and encouraging him to rest his head on his shoulder. He understood the sentiment behind Dean’s words, even if he didn’t say it flat outright. He placed a small kiss to his temple and whispered, “I need you, too.”


End file.
